Work, passion, interests and life

Archive for November 2012

   (with Respect to Tagore and Frost)


Random images cloud my mind
On exit from Howrah Station
A poor woman
Feeding a few months old baby with murky water

At Missionaries of Charity
People of special abilities line up
Sing for a potential Donor

My small sister
Lies before me
Stilled by the care
Taken by healthcare professional…

On way to work
Early Morn
A man who had just awakened from sleep
Out in the open in the bitter Delhi winter
Outstretched hand
Posters greet for miles on end
Face of a politician

Way back
I catch an auto
The driver navigating the maze
Twelve-thirteen year old

India Shining
The road ahead
Dark and deep
But You have promises to keep
And miles to go
And miles to go
And miles to go
Before You
May like to sleep.



Stares in Everything

Just a speck of dot in the Universe

Past Unknown

Future Uncertain

Present Living a Life


Somewhere within lurks

In spite of great efforts to conceal from the World

The feeling of self importance

The genesis of ego

Feeling of Exclusivity

By dint of caste, language, wealth, religion and nationality

Holding us back

To embrace


The battle within

She was adored
One and all loved her
Her nature
Gentleness personified
Demure and coy

Her endearing trait
Junior to me
Twelve years separated us
I miss now
And forever
Her wish
Her asking of me
To acquire the newest audio disc
Music that she liked
Music that she was
One and all loved her
Even God loved her
Too much
He stole her away from us
Just twenty-two
One and all loved her.

A tinge of darkness
Envelops the surroundings
People head towards their abode
Quietness lulls the countryside
Time crosses the bridge
And becomes history.

Amidst the chilliness

Providing warmth

Seducing us with thy embrace

Soaking men and women

In open spaces

In parks, and in the play fields…

I am hit by nostalgia

Childhood memories

The small town I lived in

And left behind

Lazily idling in balcony

Fragrance wafting on peeling of oranges

Chatting with family members

And friends

Play Carr om, Ludo or Chess

The excitement of cricket

Every minute of it

Conveyed in a world without TV

Commentators relaying moments

Controlling heartbeats

A couple of hours or so each day

A quarter of year in bliss

The disappearance act

Makes way for bitterness and cold

Till arrival the following day…

I was running late for office this morning. Yesterday, after the nightmarish incident of Baba’s worsening condition, I was in two minds of whether to go to office, or take the day off.  It was raining incessantly, not unusual in August experiencing a late monsoon, but Tahir came to pick me up from my residence on time.

The auto gave trouble and for a while, it was refusing to start. However, soon we were heading towards Badarpur on our onward journey. We reached Asian Institute of Medical Sciences without much of a hiccup. The rain continued unabated, but office goers thronged the roads in good number creating jams. It started from Badkal over bridge, and soon traffic came to a crawl.

We reached the toll bridge near Badarpur with great difficulty, about 15-20 minutes late than usual. On any other day, Balwinder, the very punctual driver cum owner of the cab in which I have been going to my institution in Greater Noida since last one year would have castigated me no end for this act of procrastination. But today, surprise of surprises, he wasn’t even able to reach Badarpur. He was caught in a massive jam en route to my pick up stand.

For the next hour and a half, I was talking to Balwinder intermittently over phone chalking out strategies. Balwinder was stuck at the same point for the entire duration. He informed me that all the faculties who availed his cab service have returned to their homes, and that big jams have hit the city everywhere, and Kalindi Kunj and even Greater Noida expressway on our route is witnessing traffic logjam.

Finally, I decided to retrace my steps when the jam at Badarpur was not showing any signs of clearing for hours.  Phone calls from colleagues also provided information of jam and water accumulation at various stretches and absentee seem from work. It seemed there was no way I could have reached Greater Noida before another 5-6 hours, almost towards the end of the day.

While returning, our vehicle navigated through muddy tracts alongside the roads.  I kept ruminating how the capital of the Nation could be thrown out of gears with a sudden downpour. The ability to reach office on time is getting tougher with every passing day. Citizens of Delhi are experiencing long traffic jams at every nook and corner of the city. What fate awaits us a decade or two hence?

Badarpur connects several satellite towns with South Delhi. A jam at this stretch affects millions, who regularly commute to the capital and its adjoining ‘job hubs’ from Faridabad & Palwal and such adjoining places. The recently built over bridge in Badarpur hasn’t eased problems, as it covers only a small stretch along the Mathura Road, and major congestion occur ahead. Also the Metro from Badarpur doesn’t help commuters on several routes. I feel urban planners ought to ponder seriously and take steps to ameliorate the situation.

I looked at the occupants insides the vehicles on the road. Most of the cars were massive in size, but had a sole occupant. In some others, there was additionally another occupant. In general, more than half of the vehicles appeared rather empty. One is convinced that our countrymen considers cars as a kind of ‘status symbol’ & doesn’t believe in car pooling (I would loosely called them belonging to Rich India).  On the other hand, I could see people huddled together in very large numbers in the autos (poor India). When the number of cars in the capital outnumber the cumulative figure of the cars in the other three metros (Kolkata, Chennai & Mumbai), can jams be far away on such a rainy day?

I wonder what awaits us in store in the near future. With the automobile industry doing brisk business and swanky, International cars increasingly making its way onto the streets, it is woe time for the average citizen. Even reaching one’s workplace seems such a Herculean task on a regular day, and not only during festivals such as Chath & Dusshera, which witnesses gridlock on unprecedented scales.  I pray the common office goers’ tale of woe from the capital doesn’t mount in the days to come.


Drip, drip, drip
The day was under its grip
I was indoors in a crib
And then electricity tripped.

A fly was hovering around close
and stung me on my nose
It flew and sat atop a hose
after delivering its dose.

A lizard nearby wagged its tail
after coming out from a pail
It was then that it started to hail
And I decided to enjoy in the assail.

I ran outside and headed for the beach
and anon did I reach
To relieve myself of the inflicted pain, began
Singing in the rain.

I was soaked in time
Is it a crime?
As I swirled and twirled
And toss myself in a whirl
I felt I was on cloud nine
To others it seemed asinine.


Twinkling light

Behold the sight

Colors all around…

For the festival of light

A year long wait

To usher in the exiled

Welcome to thy kingdom

Echoes in the air

Giving of gifts

And merriment all around

Diyas dispel the darkness

Not only that it surround

High decibel crackers

To be kept at bay

Lest it should become

The cause of dismay

Revel in the festive mood

And spread the good cheer all around

Spare a thought for the underprivileged

We need to light their lives.



Like a tap
Filling a bucket
And emptying at the same rate
In the words of Godard
Invasion of images on a blank screen
Flicker out for the next
Brightly lit
Dimly lit
Unfolding vision of its creator
Narrating tales of Love, Lust,
Injustices and feel good
Embedded within Frames
And a repertoire of camera techniques –
Jump cut, Dolby, Slow Mo, Swipes,
Long Exposure, Tracking, Pan and Close Ups
Some succeed to become popular
Some fade into obscurity, while
Some enter into pages of celluloid history.

Can you really love me?

When you don’t love

The ones that I really love

They’re a part of me

And makes me complete

You have loved

Just a part of me

  • None
  • Subhajit Ghosh: Have been reading that he had 'left' leanings in some articles recently..
  • mystic wanderer: Well put. It's difficult to imagine the sacrifices of our freedom fighters. But can Netaji Subhash Ch. Bose be called a leftist? Nationalist perhaps
  • Subhajit Ghosh: Your wish has been granted, and look how! Even NDA possibly didn't dream of this huge victory. Let's hope they deliver, and take the nation forward.